


Resonance

by definitely_indecisive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Angelic Soulbond, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitely_indecisive/pseuds/definitely_indecisive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battered and abused presence had poked warily out, almost as if expecting harm. He let his grace drift forward to meet the soul instantly, putting off all of the warmth he could muster. The presence seemed to stutter for a second, before melding itself into Castiel's grace. He allowed the soul to do so, cradling it with his core. He could feel the tiredness and abuse from the poor thing, yet also the amazing light it gave off as it started to slowly heal because of his grace. He could tell this was the most unique soul he had ever met, and that he wouldn't forget the feeling of the presence for all of millennia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> I don't quite know where this came from...Hope you enjoy though. :)

The battered and abused presence had poked warily out, almost as if expecting harm. He let his grace drift forward to meet the soul instantly, putting off all of the warmth he could muster. The presence seemed to stutter for a second, before melding itself into Castiel's grace. He allowed the soul to do so, cradling it with his core. He could feel the tiredness and abuse from the poor thing, yet also the amazing light it gave off as it started to slowly heal because of his grace. He could tell this was the most unique soul he had ever met, and that he wouldn't forget the feeling of the presence for all of millennia.

\---

He had flown higher and higher, flapping his heavy wings with exhaustion, yet determined to get through the crown that separated Hell from Earth. He knew he was dying, that staying here any longer would taint him indubitably, but he would suffer all he needed to for this soul. This soul was worth it. This soul needed someone to care for it. And so he flapped his wings yet again, gaining altitude.

\---

The soul cowered against him when it saw it's original body. He enveloped it with all the warmth he could muster, trying to convey that it would be alright, and embraced the soul with his wings for an amount of time. 

When the embrace was finished and his wings drifted back, the soul started shaking again, albeit not as intense. Castiel kept a feather on the presence to keep it calm as he started to rework the muscle and bone, the sinew and tendons, the flesh and cartilage. The man was a mess, torn to shreds, decaying, rotting. Castiel, attached as could be to the soul, made sure to heal each and every cut on the man. He almost lovingly restored the lifeless body, knowing the soul would need physical healing as well. He set the body into a comatose state when he was done repairing. He would leave it this way until the soul was as untainted as it could be from the darkness of Hell.

\---

Time passes for angels differently than it does for anything else. He could not tell you the number of days he just sat there, holding the presence, and soothing it. He was scared he would not be able to let go of it if this continued for much longer. The presence and his grace already carried a piece of each other in themselves. They were bound for all eternity, and Castiel knew it was considered wrong by the standards of Heaven, but he could not set this soul back into place without it being as ready as could be.

He was attached. He loved. His first feelings were swaying him from himself. The presence was changing him.

\---

It was storming the final night. The rain poured down heavily from the clouds, and Castiel sat ethereally on top of the presence's grave. He was not getting wet, yet the soul seemed to shirk back from the rain. A somberness was present around them, and he could feel a certain emotion emanating from the soul, yet he could not tell what it was.

They sat together, and for the first time to Castiel, the silence was deafening.

\---

As the sun rose, the soul began to shift. It tested it's movement and stretched lazily across the angel. Castiel smiled at this, petting it in a calming manner. The soul shuddered and then jumped out of Castiel's arms, leaping onto the site. A certain sadness fell about the angel, and the loss of warmth left him feeling cold, something he had never felt before. There was a current running along through him and the presence though, and it pacified his wistfulness. 

He picked up the soul carefully and traveled through the layers of ground, coming across the soulless body that was still comatose. As Castiel placed his palm on the arm of the man, the distinct impression of a goodbye was left upon him as the soul re-entered the body. The resounding crash of the ethereal world left a mark upon the outside of the grave, and as Castiel drifted up, he knew he was lost. He would be lost until he was able to speak to that soul again.

\---------------------------------

Castiel opened his eyes with a smile on his face. Being an angel, he could only daydream, but his thoughts always flitted over those first moments with Dean's soul. They were pure, and happy, and the only time where he hadn't felt alone. Then again, he had only started feeling alone after he placed the soul back into Dean's body.

He had been so surprised at the difference between the way the man acted and the way his soul had. Whereas the soul had clung to Castiel for warmth and reassurance, Dean was confident in his ways and never let anyone else in. Though over the years him and Dean had been through a lot, and Dean had started to rely on him more, the bond in Castiel's grace itched. It ached him to not be utterly connected with Dean again, but he couldn't ask that of the man, not now at least.

Or maybe he could? Dean always wanted someone to rely on, of course...Conflicting thoughts plagued the angel, and so he visited Dean. He was not supposed to watch the man sleep, as it was "creepy as hell" and invading his "personal space" and "privacy", but when the other man couldn't know, Castiel always came here. Watching Dean, seeing his body and soul relax into slumber, it calmed the storm of Castiel's mind.

It almost felt as if he was asleep, too.

Dean made him feel things such as these. And Castiel knew it was dangerous. But Castiel was addicted to this, to feelings, to Dean. He couldn't give it up now.

\---

"C...Cas?" 

The angel had been too caught up in an inner monologue to notice the shift in the sleeping form. He hadn't heard the stutter and upbeat breaths that now filled the room. He had missed the rustle of fabric as the man had sat up. However, the eyes he had not. Even though he actually hadn't realised he was doing it, he was staring into the green irises that matched nothing on this world but was the only thing that came to mind when the angel thought of the earth.

"Yes, Dean?" 

Dean sleepily rubbed at his eyes.

"What're ya doin?" 

The deep tremble of Dean's voice caught Castiel off-guard. He was rolling it around in his head, savoring it, memorizing it, and so he did not think of his response. Did not think of the casualties of the truth. He was too busy trying to save all that is of Dean to memory.

"I was thinking of how much I miss your soul being close to my grace."

When the silence stretched on and the angel had realised what he had said, he came back from the insides of his mind. The present was filled with an awkward shift and electric feel about the air. Dean was still on his bed, yet they were still staring into each other's eyes. Dean's irises changed minutely daily, so Castiel knew it was futile to try and memorize each sliver and change of color, but he attempted to do so anyway.

"...That's uhh, kind of creepy Cas." He cocked his head at the man, confused.

"How so? Dean, your soul left...something similar to a brand on my grace, as my grace in turn left on yours. In a sense, it would almost be equivalent to human marriage. Except much deeper. Possibly closer to a soul-bond of sorts?"

Dean had gotten up, stiffly moving around Castiel during his speech, yet Dean had stopped after his last words. His was at the door, clothes in hand, and fingers on the door knob.

"Run that by me again, Cas?"

"I did no sort of physical exercise."

A sigh emanated from the sleepy human.

"Did you just say...that we are soul-bonded?"

Dean's voice was harsh and broke on the last two words. He had spun around, looking wildly at Castiel.

"In a sense, yes." 

Dean had rubbed his hands over his face, getting his underwear stuck on his nose briefly, before stomping out of his room and muttering something about "...friggen angels..."

A flutter of recognition through the part of his grace let Castiel know that the presence was happy, and waiting to be able return to being with him.


End file.
